


To Old Ghosts

by grovestep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Fourth of July, M/M, Mentioned R:76, Mourning, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 01:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grovestep/pseuds/grovestep
Summary: What does an old soldier do on the Fourth of July? Reminisce.





	1. Chapter 1

The Fourth of July was hard on Jack Morrison. In the old days, it was filled with working the grill in hundred-degree weather. He would watch other soldiers or Overwatch cadets play football while he drank too much beer. He’d wake up with a terrible sunburn and a hangover. Now, the smell of grilled meat dredged up unwanted memories. The sound of fireworks made his teeth clench and his head pound. The only familiar solace was out of a can of Pabst.  
Jack felt like he was always chasing ghosts. Memories of his past life, as Strike Commander Morrison, haunted every corner. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he thought he could smell Gabriel’s cologne or hear Ana’s melodic laugh. When he opened them, there was only the same dirty motel room. Sometimes, though he hated to admit it, he saw them. Not their faces, but he could sense their presence; a black cloaked man watching him from an alleyway, a familiar triangle cape disappearing behind a building. He knew he was going insane—the drinking wasn’t doing him any favors—but he would be lying if he said those old ghosts didn’t give him comfort.  
Jack found himself at the liquor store for the fifth time that week. The reek of cigarettes and stale puke was thick in the air as he shouldered past youths buying kegs for Fourth of July. He saw reflections of himself in every brash, blond haired young man. He purchased a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon, avoiding eye contact with the cashier as he paid and left. He made his way to the cemetery as the sun began to set. He snuck past the guards posted at the gate and climbed the all-too-familiar hill to _the_ grave. _His_ grave.  
Case of beer in hand, Jack stared down at the gravestone. After the disaster, he found it unnerving to see his name on a tombstone. Now, he knew it didn’t signify the death of the man, but the death of the name. He would never be Strike Commander Jack Morrison again. He let out a heavy sigh and hefted himself on top of the gravestone. To his left was the grave of Gabriel Reyes; a soldier, a best friend, a husband. To his right was the grave of Ana Amari; a sniper, a mentor, a sister. Jack looked to the sky. 

The fireworks were starting, the telltale bangs and pops harkening the beautiful display of lights. Jack found that the noise didn’t make his teeth clench or head pound while he was here surrounded by old memories. He opened the case of beer and took three cans out, placing one each on Gabriel and Ana’s gravestones. He cracked open his own and raised the can to the air, “To old ghosts,” he said, knocking back the can while fireworks exploded overhead, casting him in light and shadow.


	2. Epilogue

After Jack staggered home, a man in a black cloak stepped from the shadows and hovered between Jack and Gabriel’s graves. He drank the can of beer on Gabriel’s headstone and ran his hand over Jack’s name. He lingered for a moment, staring at the two gravestones, before disappearing into the night.   
Before daybreak, a woman in a triangle cape collected the empty beer cans and stood atop the hill to watch the sunrise. She sipped the can of beer from Ana’s grave much like a cup of tea. She gave one last look at the three headstones before melting into the early crowds of people visiting loved ones.


End file.
